Meeting the Undertaker
by NadinLuciferHawk
Summary: The Black Organisation has to hide before the FBI and discover a terrible secret...


**Author's note**

This is another thing our messed up brains threw up. Has nothing to do with the other Conan Parody.

Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

The black Porsche, the Viper and the Harley sped along a poor neighbourhood somewhere in the suburbs of Tokyo.

"How far are they away?" Vodka asked.

"Too close for my taste", Vermouth replied from her position atop her Motor Bike. "We should take cover as soon as possible!"

"How?" Chianti snapped, "Out here our Vehicles will stick out like some black African in a meeting of the Ku Klux Klan!"

"Maybe burn the cars?" Bourbon suggested from the Porsche's back seat. He was clutching a heavy bleeding wound in his shoulder. Kir, who sat next to him, caught two slugs in her right arm.

Gin narrowed his eyes. The assassins wanted to take out some politician, only they realized in the last second it wasn't the politician, but rather this gorilla-like FBI Agent. And quickly they had been surrounded by FBI.

They had to fight their way clear, at the cost of being hit and injured.

Absent-minded Gin rubbed his sore chest where his ballistic vest caught at least four or five bullets.

Vodka has been hit at the arm, disabling him from driving the Porsche.

"Burn my car?" the silver-haired assassin growled at the man behind him. "Bourbon, I'd rather go back and face the entire damn FBI myself. And _eat_ them alive if necessary."

"No chance discussing with you then?" The young Agent sighed. "Well, what are we going to do then?"

"Hide out"

"Where, Aniki?"

Gin didn't reply. Rather there was a triumphant smirk on his face. "At my place", he said.

He slammed the transmitter button. "Chianti. Vermouth. Follow my lead."

The Porsche shot forwards and raced around a corner.

The buildings around here were old buildings; some even had enough space for farming machines.

And one of them was a one-story tall old building. A Funeral home of sorts.

Gin drove his car into the courtyard of the business, shot left and stopped it in a garage, next to a black van.

The viper and the Harley stopped next to it and the occupants got out.

"What is this place?" Chianti asked as she helped Korn out of the Viper.

"My 'legal' job."

The silver-haired assassin moved around the garage and pulled some keys from his jacket. "I own a funeral business."

"...Well. That explains why you take care of the bodies nobody is supposed to find", Vermouth deadpanned.

Gin unlocked the hind ramp. "This is where I prepare the bodies", he explained as he held the door open for the others to come in. "At the moment I got no clients, so you can stay here."

The group moved into a once sterile room with several stainless steel tables. Everything seemed pretty worn-down and not very clean. There were even a few spider webs around and the on-wall plastering was missing in several spots. A few coffins stood around, all of them empty at the moment. Bourbon threw a quick glance into the main room. Just like the morgue everything seemed worn down and old. The store room was filled with shelves and coffins, Sotoba and gravestones stood against the walls and urns of all sizes filled the shelves.

"This is your place?"

"What did you expect?"

Gin went into a small room that seemed to be the office as he added: "I'll distract the FBI idiots when they come here. You stay back there and patch yourself up."

He slammed the door shut while the Blacks stared at each other.

"In here we're sitting ducks", Kir realized, "I hope Gin knows what he is doing."

Vermouth was rummaging through the tool box. "Well. At least we have enough material to take care of our wounds."

She smiled. "And don't you worry. I have been a doctor a long time to get these things right."

-o-

Not much later Gin emerged from the office.

His partners looked at him with large eyes.

"Uh... Aniki. I don't mean to tell you what you have to do... but your disguise isn't very good..."

Gin smirked. "Believe me Vodka. This disguise is perfect even because it is imperfect."

He brushed some dust off his sleeve, which was, frankly, over-sized and large enough to hide his hands completely. His black coat has been replaced with another dark coat draped over a priest's cassock. His legs were mostly covered with dark pants and knee-high leather boots that looked like they came straight from the beginning of the 20th Century.

He had a grey scarf across his chest that was knotted together at his hips and he had a belt made from burial medallions, too.

Gin's hair was no longer straight, but rather wild and shaggy. He had its bangs draped over his eyes and two strands over his shoulders. He even had a small braid at the right side of his head.

The scar he would conceal during their missions with make-up was now clearly visible, straight across his face, from the right lower side of his jaw over his nose and left eye and ended somewhere beneath his hair.

He had another scar across his throat and his right little finger. And Vermouth knew those weren't the only ones.

With certain professionalism Gin fumbled several ear rings into his ears, quick and efficient despite having black fingernails that were almost one inch long.

"Trust me", he muttered, "Just keep quiet and I can get the FBI out of our hair."

In that moment they heard the door opened. Gin quickly grabbed a black crooked top hat and put it on. "Patch yourself together. In case somebody will get in here, I try to warn you. Then you quickly dive into the coffins or hide yourself otherwise."

"Coffins?" Kir shrieked silently.

"Sweet. Ain't much different to my bed then", Chianti grinned.

Gin rolled his eyes beneath his bangs and went towards the door. He left it open just in case.

-o-

With their guns ready Akai Shuichi, James Black, Andre Camel and Jodie Starling went into the funeral home.

'The Undertaker' was written on the sign.

However, the entire building looked pretty much in disarray. Coffins stood everywhere; there was dust and a lot of spider webs.

In the main room was a large desk, more coffins and a lot of shelves filled with urns, books and jars containing... human organs and body parts as Akai noticed with an urge to throw up a moment later.

In that second they heard steps and the clatter of a necklace.

The four whirled around and stared at... Gin?

Akai lifted his eyebrow and eyed Jodie, who in turn stared dumbfounded.

"Is that this Mafia guy?" Camel asked carefully.

"He looks like him", James muttered. "Are you the owner of this place?" he asked somewhat louder.

The man in front of them suddenly pulled his lips up into a maniacal grin. "Indeed I am. The Undertaker I am called."

He waved his hand through the stale air. "Why don't you take a seat and tell me what a group of armed people does in my humble business?"

Back in the morgue Vermouth felt the hair in her neck rise.

Gin was not talking like Gin. Meaning, he was not trying to kill somebody with his words, but rather he sounded like a madman. And when he turned for a short moment around to retrieve an urn from the shelf, the Blacks realized their boss had a definite insane grin plastered to his face.

Andre looked at his colleagues. "Uh... sit... where?"

The Undertaker eyed them and pointed with his inch-long claws at the coffins. "Why not sit on top? I'm sure my guests won't complain."

Akai narrowed his eyes as the Undertaker took a seat at his table.

"We are looking for someone", he said coolly. "A group of seven individuals, crime members. We chased them here and now they are hiding like rats."

"Rats?" The Undertaker giggled, "How amusing! And what makes you think those rats hid here?"

Jodie looked at Shuichi. "Is that really him?" her gaze asked.

"In that case, why don't you allow us to take a look into your morgue?"

"Oh. I could allow you this little piece of fun." The man chuckled, "However, Today I got a new guest. Poor man's been lying in a car trunk for a few weeks now. Doesn't smell as nice anymore and is not very pretty to look at."

James made a face. He remembered he had one of those bodies in a case.

The Undertaker had opened the urn, revealing it to be a jar filled with bone-shaped cookies. He was munching on one at the moment.

"I think we'll pass on that", James said.

The Undertaker giggled. "Of course you do!" He tilted his head and crossed his fingers. "Then maybe you want to take a nap in one of my special caskets? It feels wonderful sleeping in them!"

Akai snarled at him. "We are looking for some people", he growled. "You haven't seen them, have you?"

"Seen them? Well. I could have." The Undertaker seemed to think for a moment. "Oh. No. I haven't seen anybody living until you came and knocked on my door."

He chuckled darkly. "Ah. So maybe you want to know about my late guests?"

The FBI was beginning to feel really uncomfortable. "What the hell is wrong with him?" Camel asked silently. "Did he hit his head or something?"

"I assure you, everything's fine with me", the Undertaker interrupted him. He made a face. "Oh. Maybe not? Or maybe something is wrong with you?"

He giggled again. "Ah, I'm just an Undertaker. I know of no such things."

He pulled his lips back into that insane grin of his. "But maybe I could tell you a thing or two- if you have the right payment, of course."

"Payment?"

"Show me... a first-rate laugh!"

"Laugh?"

"Yes. You see, the world is such a sad place. So why don't we all cheer up and laugh while we are alive?"

He leaned forwards. "The life is such a short thing. We should make the best out of it."

The Undertaker chuckled again.

"Nope. We're wrong here", Akai muttered after a few tense moments. "Let's go. We have to find them."

They got up and went towards the door. "Thank you for your time, Undertaker", the green-eyed FBI agent murmured.

"Ah. Please come again anytime. I would want to show you the comfy coffins then!"

The door fell shut.

-o-

After a few more minutes and making sure the FBI left this place, Gin turned and walked back to the morgue.

"Everything's clear"

He found his team staring at him with big eyes.

"...What?"

"You get kind of scary when you do that." Vermouth said. "Not this 'I rip your head off and eat it' scary, but these 'I'm gonna grin at you and you die from the sheer creepiness'."

Gin arched a brow. "So you're saying I'm actually scarier being the Undertaker than being a criminal?"

The others nodded.

Gin put the insane grin back on. "Something like that? Teehee"

"Exactly like that." Vermouth shuddered. "Hell. Stop acting like that!"

"Acting?" Gin looked amused. "Who said I am acting now?" He chuckled darkly. "Maybe I'm acting all the time I'm around you guys and this is who I am normally?"

-o-

The Blacks never looked at their Boss the same way again.

And they never slept well again.

Never. Again.


End file.
